What Should Not Be Forgotten
by Johanna Brosenthal
Summary: I'm writing this letter because I almost killed myself today, Wiress. WILL BE REWRITTEN!


**A/N: Hey, I actually published something, what is this madness. Rated for some old dude's weird ramblings and his suicidal thoughts.**

WHAT SHOULD NOT BE FORGOTTEN

A year has passed since the war ended. 365 days, eleven hours, five minutes and 23 seconds, to be exact. Now it's been 26 seconds. Funny, how time flies by just like that, and the seconds that have passed become.. irrelevant.

Today we celebrate our freedom. We remember the loved ones we lost and honour the strangers who died for us at war. But what about ten years from now? Will we remember the strangers?

What should not be forgotten, are the small things that used to make life worth living in the old Panem. Like the sweetness of strawberries, the butterflies in spring, the laughter of a child, the kindess of a stranger.

As years pass, people will eventually forget the strangers. They'll take their freedom for granted. They won't stop and think about just how many people gave their lives to secure a better future for their children. Funny, how time flies by just like that, and the casualities become also quite.. irrelevant.

A little over a year ago, a simple girl from district 12 lit a spark. Eventually, she set the whole damn country on fire. Katniss Everdeen will go down in history, people who aren't even born yet will grown up to know her name, to know what she has done. But what about people like you and me, Wiress? Will anyone remember us?

What should not be forgotten, is the fact that there were other heros besides Katniss. You and me, for example. Without you, Katniss wouldn't have known about the force field in the arena, without me, she wouldn't have had the weapons to defeat her enemies. We mattered, Wiress. As did Seeder, Chaff, Mags.. but nobody remembers them anymore.

I'm still here, remembering you, but am I truly remembering, if I, myself, am already forgotten? This question would fall under the same category as 'if a tree falls in a forest, but nobody's around to hear, does it make a sound?' Does it?

Does it matter, that I remember you, if there is no one around to acknowledge my existense, as I remember?

What will happen after I'm dead? Will it be as if neither of us ever existed? Have you ever truly existed, if no one remembers that you did? Why am I asking you this? Have I gone mad? I suspect that I have. I'm sitting here, putting forth questions to a dead person, am I not?

I'll justify it with the fact that these are questions I'd never dare ask aloud, in fear of actually getting an answer. I much rather ask you, since you can't answer them.

What should not be forgotten, is that miracles do happen. There is always a chance that magic is real, that love is stronger than hate and that good always conquers evil. There's small chance, that God exists.

So it could happen, that when I leave this letter by your grave, you'll read it, and appear at my bedside as a shimmering, winged creatures, and tell me about death.

Unfortunately, I've chosen to believe in science. It is much more likely, that when you die, you become quite oblivious to everything around you, and the worms feasting on your rotting intestines won't bother you. It is a sad, but logical way of seeing things.

Annie disagrees with me though, she likes to believe that her Finnick is now an angel.

You see, since I am old, slightly demented and not pretty enough to prance infront of cameras, like the other 'war-heros', I've decided to put myself to use, and help Annie. It gets lonely, living at the sea-side with a deranged woman, who stays locked away in her room most of the time.

What should not be forgotten, is the beauty in a child's laughter, as I stated earlier. Annie's son is one of the few things that make me smile nowadays. Ronan looks just like his father, he's even got the dimples. I pointed this out to Katniss and Peeta, when they visited us once, but they didn't remember Finnick having dimples.

What should not be forgotten, are small details like dimples and freckles and scars, that make a person unique. If you let even the smallest detail escape your mind, you'll slowly start to forget everything about the dead one.

I remember exactly how you look like, Wiress. I remember your high cheekbones, and big, gray eyes, the same color as the snow in district three. I remember the wrinkles that form between your eye-brows, when you're deep in thought, and the small scars on your lips, caused by your habit of biting them til they bleed.

Lately I've been finding it hard to hold onto anything. I'm alive, but forgotten. It seems as though the things I do, don't matter. So why bother doing anything at all? I ask myself that frequently, without finding any answers. Im scared, Wiress. Im scared that I'll end this myself, because I can't find a reason not to.

I almost did end it today actually, but Ronan stopped me by just.. being there. He just sat there, on the livingroom floor, laughing at seemingly nothing. It is such a beautiful sound, that boy's laughter. It's nice to think that because of me, he'll live to laugh for many, many years, in a world without the Games, without fear, suffering and starvation. It's a very nice thought, indeed.

I'm writing this letter because almost to killed myself today, Wiress. I'm writing this letter, to remind myself of the little things that people always dismiss as irrelevant, and to give them a reason.

I've decided to keep living, to remember what should not be forgotten.


End file.
